The Adventures Harry Richmond — Volume 3 eBook

Julia Rippenger was a guest at Riversley through.
a visit paid to her by my aunt Dorothy in alarm at
my absence. The intention was to cause the squire
a distraction. It succeeded; for the old man
needed lively prattle of a less childish sort than
Janet Ilchester’s at his elbow, and that young
lady, though true enough in her fashion, was the ardent
friend of none but flourishing heads; whereas Julia,
finding my name under a cloud at Riversley, spoke
of me, I was led to imagine by Captain Bulsted, as
a ballad hero, a gloriful fellow, a darling whose deeds
were all pardonable—­a mere puff of smoke
in the splendour of his nature.

‘To hear the young lady allude to me in that
style!’ he confided to my ear, with an ineffable
heave of his big chest.

Certain good influences, at any rate, preserved the
squire from threatening to disinherit me. Colonel
Goodwin had spoken to him very manfully and wisely
as to my relations with my father. The squire,
it was assumed by my aunt, and by Captain Bulsted
and Julia, had undertaken to wink at my father’s
claims on my affection. All three vehemently
entreated me to make no mention of the present of Hock
to him, and not to attempt to bring about an interview.
Concerning the yellow wine I disregarded their advice,
for I held it to be a point of filial duty, and an
obligation religiously contracted beneath a cathedral
dome; so I performed the task of offering the Hock,
stating that it was of ancient birth. The squire
bunched his features; he tutored his temper, and said
not a word. I fancied all was well. Before
I tried the second step, Captain Bulsted rode over
to my father, who himself generously enjoined the
prudent course, in accordance with his aforegone precepts.
He was floated off, as he termed it, from the inn
where he lay stranded, to London, by I knew not what
heaven-sent gift of money, bidding me keep in view
the grand career I was to commence at Dipwell on arriving
at my majority. I would have gone with him had
he beckoned a finger. The four-and-twenty bottles
of Hock were ranged in a line for the stable-boys
to cock-shy at them under the squire’s supervision
and my enforced attendance, just as revolutionary
criminals are executed. I felt like the survivor
of friends, who had seen their blood flow.

He handed me a cheque for the payment of debts incurred
in my recent adventures. Who could help being
grateful for it? And yet his remorseless spilling
of the kindly wine full of mellow recollections of
my father and the little princess, drove the sense
of gratitude out of me.